Messages for Hanna

Hanna - we can never know all the ways we have touched, impacted, changed others or our world. I think about you often. I wish I had had more capacity to support you and the careforce in these last years. I found Bedsores and Bliss at my friends' house in Vermont (on the land where tender lives) and read it in the bathtub, laughing and sobbing. Two years ago I started making recordings of various sounds out in the world to bring the world to you: owls hooting, the sounds of spring in Frick park near blue slide, the Allegheny River flowing, the starlings chattering up a storm in the bamboo stand by the apollo stairs near your now home. I didn't share them in part because of this scattered brain that I have, but also because I was unsure if you'd want them, or if they'd be painful reminders of things you were missing, my own unimportance. We live with so much fear which keeps us separate from connection (to ourselves, others, the world), living, peace, possibility. In knowing that you are coming off the vent tonight and the reality of your no longer being with us and with yourself/your body, I regret letting fear keep me from possibility (of sharing a generous desire, of you hearing those starlings that are so close but out of your reach, of you knowing that I was and have been thinking of you and loving you). I see how your decision to come off the vent is you not letting fear keep you from possibility (while knowing with more certainty than we are ever able to have the loss that comes with this decision). Thank you for letting me be a part of caring for you so briefly when I was able. I'm holding you and the careforce with so much love, tenderness, and wishing all the ease for all of you.